


The Hug

by Jemima_Puddleduck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying John, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hug Scene (Sherlock: The Lying Detective), Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Angst, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemima_Puddleduck/pseuds/Jemima_Puddleduck
Summary: Short series 4 fix-it. This is my interpretation of what really happened after 'The Hug'.





	

"It's okay." Sherlock whispers into John's hair, and it's almost as if he's trying to convince himself. 

_It's okay. You can hold him. It's all okay._

"It's not okay." John whispers back through heaving sobs, barely audible. 

"No." Sherlock tells him, pulling him closer. "But it is what it is." 

John doesn't reply, and they stay there for a moment. The world slows down to a stop around them, stands still just for them. John is sobbing into Sherlock's chest, with heaving ribs and huffing breaths. Sherlock doesn't dare move. He feels rooted to the grubby carpet and his breaths hitch in his throat as he feels John's soft hair tickling his chin. He's trying to be comforting; He knows that's what John desperately needs, but his knees have gone weak and he can hardly hide the shake creeping into his limbs like a virus. Breaths come out in tiny puffs of air and his pulse skyrockets as the thought truly hits him. _I'm holding John. John is here, in my arms._

Sherlock can feel the soft cotton fabric of John's shirt shifting under his grip and he spreads his palm to cover the expanse of his back, letting John's skin warm his trembling fingers. He keeps his grip firm, letting John collapse into him like a ragdoll. Tiny hiccups permeate the still silence of the room, and Sherlock feels them on his chest like sparking electricity. His other hand grips John's shoulder and cautiously, he begins to run his palm up and down over his arm in a gesture he hopes is comforting. His friend relaxes into him a fraction more and Sherlock realises that he is doing it right after all. A familiar scent engulfs Sherlock, his brain only just catching up to the new sensations flooding through him. Gently lowering his head, he takes a shuddering breath and suddenly his lungs are filled with John. The delicate, musky scent of John's soft hair takes him back to better times, when they were busy arguing about who was going to get the milk and neither of them ever had a cause to cry into the other's chest.  

John's soft sobbing begins to subside, and when Sherlock is sure that he's fine, he gently pulls back. The tears that haven't saturated Sherlock's shirt are still making tracks down John's face. Sherlock reaches up with a soft, violinist's hand to brush them aside. He feels his friend tense, then relax at the contact of his delicate fingers over his red and inflamed cheek. A soft moan drifts from the table, breaking the spell. John shakes his head like a wet dog emerging from a pond, trying to push the emotions away. 

"You should text her back." He mumbles. It's only now that Sherlock registers a different kind of sadness in his eyes. 

"I don't want to." Sherlock replies almost sulkily, still hanging onto John. 

"Please. For me. I don't want you to be lonely." John begs. His selfless mind still only thinking of his best friend in his lowest moment. 

"I'm not." Sherlock tells him firmly and meets his gaze. John can feel Sherlock's eyes almost burning through him as they stand there. As realisation dawns, the pads of Sherlock's fingers begin to feel like hot irons on his skin. 

"Wait... you mean." He stutters. Flustered at the conflicting emotions wresting for control of his mind. 

"I'm never lonely if I'm with you John. I just want to make sure you're okay." He tells him. _'Breathe Sherlock'_ his brain reminds him. 

John feels tears welling up in his eyes again for an entirely different reason and it's almost too much. 

"I'm sorry. I've said the wrong thing." Sherlock backtracks, seeing the tears threatening to spill over in his friend's eyes. 

"No Sherlock. You're perfect." John tells him, choked with emotion. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

"I love you Sherlock." He admits, his words almost inaudible. 

_Breathe Sherlock. Keep breathing._

Sherlock stands there in shock, not knowing what to say. The silence stretches out like an elastic band, ready to snap at any moment, stretching further and further until...

"Oh John." He whispers breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him by his friend's admission. 

For a moment, it looks as if Sherlock is about to say something else, but his words are lost as John reaches up on his toes and wraps and arm around Sherlock's neck. One look of confirmation is all he needs and suddenly their lips are crashing together and finally,  _finally_ , everything fits. 

_This is how it should have been from the start._

_This is how it was always supposed to be._

These are the thoughts left unsaid, expressed only in soft, yet desperate kisses. They press against each other as if they had been starved, limbs all touching, heaving chests pushed into one. 

_This is right_. Their racing pulses say. 

A distant part of John's mind clicks and  it dawns on him that Sherlock is crying too, solitary teardrops tracking neat paths along his carved cheekbones. John pushes them away with a calloused finger, tracing the outline of Sherlock's cheeks. The angles and curves run underneath John's touch and the sensation is new yet starkly familiar. John pulls back, taking in Sherlock's tear stained and awestruck expression. 

"You okay?" He asks gently, his ordeal of a few minutes before almost forgotten. 

"I love you too John Watson. God I love you." He breathes, pupils wide and shining. 

Their lips come crashing down for the second time and they entwine with each other, feverently making up for lost time.

_"It is what it is."_


End file.
